What You Don't Expect
by vvmadp
Summary: When one brother steps out, another steps in to take his place. And Elena isn't sure she wants to fight him anymore.
1. Prologue

**Prologue**

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**Written for the Secret Santa over at the Damon_Elena LJ Comm.

**Author's Note:** This is NOT an angst-ridden story. It's a short story I wrote as a Christmas present, so it needed to wrap up "fast." Damon and Elena go out of character a bit in this one-they needed to in order to make the story work. I tried to keep them as close to character as possible, but you've been warned: not my most angsty fic. And I guess you could call it AU, since Stefan isn't in the picture. Just wanted to give you a heads up! Hope you enjoy!

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Elena watched numbly as she stared at the tail lights of Stefan's car. His words repeated endlessly in her mind as the red brake lights flashed at her before the curve, as if they were blinking their goodbye.

_"I'm sorry, Elena. I have to get Katherine out of that tomb. I can't just leave her in there. I'm sorry."_

He was sorry. He was sorry, and then he was gone.

She had tried to tell herself for months that it was all in her imagination: that Stefan wasn't really disappearing in the middle of the night; that he didn't really smell strangely like old crypt dust; that he wasn't really avoiding her eyes when she looked at him.

But it wasn't just her imagination. Stefan had been sneaking off to see Katherine since Elijah had let him out of the tomb. And now he was gone, off to find Elijah, to save fair Katherine.

She fell to her knees, wrapping her arms around herself in a tight embrace. Stefan was gone. Stefan was gone. He had left her. Abandoned her. Chosen _Katherine_, that vindictive, malicious, murderous, evil, spiteful creature… over her.

Stefan was gone.

"Anything interesting down there?"

She lifted her head at the casual, conversational tone. Damon crouched beside her, looking down at the ground in front of her. As if he felt her unappreciative, hostile stare, he lifted his eyes and met her gaze.

He made a face of mock-sympathy. "No arrow heads this time, huh? Maybe next time. What's important is that you just keep looking, Elena." He patted her strongly on her back, emphasizing the last words of his sentence encouragingly.

"Damon, not now," she objected, pushing herself to her feet and turning away from him. She started back to the house, to go bury herself in her bed until she was old and gray.

"Would tonight work better for you?" he asked suggestively, sliding in front of her and blocking her path. He raised his eyebrows mischievously.

How could he be so cavalier? His brother was on what was likely a suicide mission to save the woman—vampire, Elena corrected herself—who Damon had loved for 145 years. How could he stand there and flirt with her as if nothing were wrong? As if their lives hadn't just been turned upside down?

"How can you not care?" she demanded accusingly, watching as his handsome features quickly slid into neutral. "How can you not care that your brother just ran off to go save the woman you loved most of your life?"

"Well, first of all, Elena," he began, in a lecturing tone. He stepped to her side and wrapping an arm around her shoulders. "I'm dead. And secondly, I knew Katherine for less than a year of my life, so it wasn't _really_ like I loved her for most of it."

Elena scowled, yanking away from him. "You know what I mean, Damon," she snapped. "Doesn't it bother you at all?"

His face became serious, edged in hostility. "Of course it bothers me. I think we should leave Katherine to rot in that tomb until she's shriveled up like a corpse and mad with blood lust. But Saint Stefan came to the rescue again, and he can't let that happen to her. So he's going to get her out. And there's nothing _either_," he deliberately stared at her, "of us can do about it."

She stared at him until his words sank in, then turned away, unable to hold his gaze any longer. Wordlessly, she turned and headed up the stairs to her front door.

"Where are you going?" Damon called after her, protesting her departure.

"Inside," she returned evenly.

"Does that mean we're not on for tonight?"


	2. Chapter 1

**Chapter One**

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**Written for the Secret Santa over at the Damon_Elena LJ Comm.

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The last thing Elena Gilbert expected to see as she headed out to her car to go to school on the crisp Monday morning was Damon Salvatore. Even more unexpected was when he pushed off of the hood of his car, dangling a pair of keys from his pointer finger as he strode toward hers.

"You're going to be late," he mock-scolded.

Elena scowled up at him. "What do you want, Damon?" she asked, turning to head to her car.

His hands were suddenly on her shoulders, steering her to his car. "I thought I'd give you a lift," he said, forcing her forward.

Elena tried to resist, but Damon was inhumanly strong, and the effort was futile. "What?" she protested. "Why? Damon! Stop!"

"You know what they say, Elena," he sing-songed at her, opening the passenger door and all-but shoving her in. "You can't be scared of what goes bump in the night when you _are_ the thing that goes bump in the night."

She scowled at him. "No one says that!" she snapped. Irritated, she put her right foot out of the car. "Damon, cut it out. I have to get to school—"

"And I'm going to make sure you get there." She pulled back when he suddenly leaned over her, lifting her leg into the car. He tugged on the seat belt, locking her into place, and looked up at her from only inches away. His blue eyes were intense and pointed as they met hers. "_Without_ running off to go find Stefan."

He shut the door on his words, hopping into the driver's seat before she even had a chance to reach for the buckle.

She let out a sound of frustration. "Is that what this is about?" she demanded, as he started the engine. "I'm not going to go after him, Damon. He made it clear that Katherine is the one he wants—not me. I'm not going to chase after him if he doesn't want me."

"You say that now," Damon pointed out casually, pulling away from the curb and out onto the road. He looked over at her deliberately. "But your red-rimmed eyes tell a _completely_ different story."

She turned away from him, annoyed that he had noticed. Annoyed that she was trapped in a car with him. Annoyed that he was right, and a part of her did want to chase after Stefan and stop him from risking everything to save that undeserving bitch.

"So," he went on brightly. "What's on the agenda for today?"

She glared out the window before turning to him. "The agenda?" she repeated, emphasizing the word. There was no agenda. Wasn't that why he had practically kidnapped her? Stefan was gone, which meant her nights and her weekends had suddenly opened right up.

"You know. What is it you teenagers do now-a-days? Skip class? Go sneak some alcohol behind the gym? Decorate for the latest town get-together?"

Elena scowled at him. "I'm going to school, Damon. Then I'm going to catch a ride home with Caroline and do my homework."

He uttered a groan of exasperation, rolling his head to look over at her. "That's so _boring_," he complained. "Come on, Elena! You're free! Go… I don't know…" His face twisted in frustrated concentration as she almost watched the wheels in his head turn. "Get a fake ID and sneak into a club or something."

She rolled her eyes. "I think I'll stick to my homework," she declared flatly.

"You need to live a little," Damon advised, pulling the car up to a stop outside of the school.

She threw open the door, relieved to be out of the cramped space with him. The last person she needed a lecture from was Damon Salvatore, of all people. She shouldered her backpack and slammed the door shut without saying goodbye, hoping he got the message loud and clear. As she started down the path to the building, she heard him call after her, "Just looking out for you, Elena!"

She gritted her teeth, refusing to look back as the students standing around her paused to look at her.

"I didn't ask," she muttered.

* * *

It wasn't that Elena didn't expect Damon to be waiting for her after school, sitting on one of the picnic tables with his forearms on his knees, looking irritatingly handsome and amused at the stares he was receiving from the female population.

She had just really been hoping to avoid a scene at school, in front of the entire student body.

"What's Damon doing here?" Caroline asked doubtfully, a twinge of annoyance and disgust in her high-pitched voice. Elena didn't have to look at her to know her tiny nose was probably wrinkled, her eyebrows drawn together.

Elena sighed, trying to push down her irritation as she turned to Caroline. "He's trying to stop me from going after Stefan," she told Caroline, keeping her voice low.

She'd been right—Caroline was frowning. "Go after Stefan?" she repeated. "Go after him _where_? It's not like he left a forwarding address." She paused, looking stricken. "I guess that's not very sensitive of me, is it?"

"We'd expect no less from you," Damon assured her. Elena's head shot up as he suddenly appeared behind her right side, sliding her backpack from her shoulder. She tried not to sigh as he and Caroline smiled sneeringly at each other.

"Stop it, both of you," Elena ordered, exasperated. She turned to Damon, who held her backpack in his hand. "Damon. I'm fine. Really. I'm not going after Stefan. I'm going to go home." She reached for her bag. "Now give me my bag so I can go."

"And I believe you, Elena, I do," he promised, in a patronizing tone that she wanted to shake out of him. He wrapped an arm around her shoulders and directed her toward his car, which he had parked by the fire lane. "I'm just giving you a ride home."

"I don't need a ride," she insisted. "Caroline—"

"Caroline has wolf-boy to deal with," Damon reminded, shooting a dark look at Caroline over his shoulder. Elena looked back at her friend, who glared at Damon angrily. Damon tugged Elena forward again. "Now come on. Let's not cause a scene."

She tried to resist, but Damon was stronger than she was, and just like that morning, he already had her to the car before she could dig her heels in enough to stop him. With a sigh, she reluctantly climbed into the car. She shot Caroline a pleading look, but even as she watched, Tyler Lockwood approached the blond girl, a hesitant look on his face. Caroline spun around, and that was the last thing Elena saw before Damon pulled the car away.

"You can't keep kidnapping me, you know," Elena warned him.

He shot her a devilish grin. "Would you prefer it if I just tied you up? Elena—I had no idea you were into such things." He turned the car around a corner. "Look at you… Stefan's gone for a few days and the wild child emerges!"

She sighed in annoyance. "I'm not kidding, Damon. I'm a big girl. You can't keep showing up and chasing after me because you think I'm going to run after Stefan." She turned to him. His eyes were fixed on the road, not looking at her, and she felt her anger fade. Damon was putting on a good act, but she could see through it. He was scared. He thought she would go after Stefan and get herself killed. And as much as she wanted to go after him, Stefan had made his choice, and she had nothing left to do but accept it—no matter how much she hated it. And Damon needed to know it, too. "I appreciate what you're trying to do. I know you're worried about me. But I'm fine. Really. I'll be okay."

The teasing, jovial mood slid off of his face. He looked over at her, his blue eyes intense. "I know," he said simply.

She hesitated, caught off-guard. "If you know, then why are you following me?" she asked.

He pulled the car to a stop outside of her house, turning to her. She almost leaned back, her breath catching in her throat as she stared at him. "That," he told her, "is how I know."


	3. Chapter 2

**Chapter Two**

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**Written for the Secret Santa over at the Damon_Elena LJ Comm.

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Elena gasped as someone yanked hard on her arm, whirling her to a stop in the hallway. "Caroline?" she asked in disbelief, stunned. "What's wrong? Are you okay?"

Her friend's blue eyes were sharp, almost cold. Her jaw was set, nearly clenched in anger. She looked like she was doing her best not to yell.

"Did I just see you climb out of Damon's car?" Caroline asked her, her voice carefully controlled.

Elena shifted, pulling her arm free of the firm grip. "Yeah. Why?"

"That's _every day_ this month, Elena!" Caroline hissed. The students around them stilled, staring at them. Elena looked back at them uncomfortably, frowning up at Caroline, who seemed to realize the scene she had created as soon as she had done it. The two girls exchanged a look and quickly headed into an empty classroom, Caroline scowling while Elena tried not to sigh.

It was true. Damon had been chauffeuring her around since Stefan had disappeared over a month earlier. At first Elena had been irritated about the whole thing, but after the second week she had quit fighting him and just climbed into the car, allowing him to carry her backpack for her. It was just easier than putting up any more resistance. It was just a car ride to and from school—it was ten minutes maximum.

"It's not that big of a deal, Caroline—" Elena started slowly.

"It is!" Caroline howled. "It is that big of a deal, Elena! Especially with the two of you! Damon's so insanely in love with you that it would be funny if it weren't Damon and you! And you! You only chose Stefan at the beginning because you chose Stefan at the beginning!" Caroline hesitated, frowned, and went on. "You know what I mean. What I mean is," Caroline took Elena's shoulders, "he's trouble, Elena. He's big trouble. You don't want that in your life. You want someone nice and normal. Someone _alive_. Damon's a ruthless murderer. He's _evil_. So whatever sexy thoughts you're having about him, just… stop it!"

Elena carefully detached herself. "Caroline, whatever you think is happening between Damon and me… you're wrong. Nothing's going on. He's just worried about me, and he's being a good friend."

"Listen to yourself, Elena!" Caroline exploded. "Damon Salvatore is no friend to you! He never has been, and believe me, he doesn't want to be."

Elena tried not to sigh. "Caroline, I know you're just trying to help, but really, it's nothing."

Caroline scowled at her. "He's dangerous, Elena," Caroline repeated. "Nothing good can come from being with him." She frowned, pained. "Believe me. I know."

Elena reached out and gently squeezed her arm. Caroline had every right to hate Damon—he had used her as his own personal McDonald's—but Caroline was way off-base. There was nothing going on between her and Damon.

Absolutely nothing.

* * *

"Bad day?" Damon drawled.

She stepped past him to the car, holding tightly onto her backpack. "It was fine," she told him evenly. She knew he didn't deserve her hostility, but a tiny part of her thought maybe Caroline was right, and it never hurt to be too careful. She and Damon had been together every day—except for weekends—for over a month. It was unusual, if nothing else. Of course, everything in her life was unusual. She had dated a vampire for almost two years, her mother was a vampire, her brother had a ring that made him invincible, one of her best friends was a vampire, her other best friend was a witch, and her childhood friend was a werewolf.

Just an average small town.

Damon slowly headed for the car, his hands held up defensively. "Whatever happened, it wasn't my fault," he warned, climbing into the driver's seat. "I was at home all day, by _myself_, mind you, waiting for that lovely grandfather clock to chime 2:30 so I could come rescue you from the drudgery that is your boring high school life."

As he started the car, she turned to him. "I think," she began, "that you can stop driving me to school now." At his arched eyebrow, she went on. "I'm not going to go after Stefan, Damon. He made his choice. But I need to live my life, and I need to be able to go out after school. Do things. Be… I don't know…" she paused deliberately, "normal."

He looked over at her, his blue eyes intense. "Normal, huh?" he asked.

She nodded emphatically. "Normal."

His gaze reverted to the road. "And what is 'normal,' Elena? What constitutes this 'normal' you're so desperately craving?"

He was mocking her. She scowled in response. "Normal," she snapped. "Going shopping after school. Hanging out with my friends. Normal stuff."

He smiled wolfishly at her. "You'll never be normal," he teased impishly.

"Not with a vampire driving me to and from school every day!" she exclaimed. "Come on, Damon. I'm serious. I appreciate everything you did for me. I _do_. I know you were trying to protect me from myself, even if you won't admit it. But I'm fine now. I just want to get on with my life."

He didn't look at her. "Without Stefan."

"Without Stefan," she repeated matter-of-factly.

"Without vampires."

She hesitated, but nodded. "Without anything supernatural."

"You realize that cheer-vamp counts as supernatural, right? Oh, and the witch, too."

She sighed. "Damon…"

He held up a hand in defense. "I get it. I get it." He pulled his car to a stop outside of her house. "Damon's escort service ends here." He winked at her, grinning devilishly. "But we're open 24-7."

She turned to him. "Thank you," she said, meaning it. She watched his smile fall slightly. "For everything, Damon. Really." She retrieved her backpack from the back of the car, climbed out, and headed up the walkway.


	4. Chapter 3

**Chapter Three**

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**Written for the Secret Santa over at the Damon_Elena LJ Comm.

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Elena stumbled through the crowded house, barely managing to stay on her feet as the room swirled around her. She smiled giddily, feeling sloppy as she rejoined the boy who held the plastic cup out to her—Paul, she was pretty sure he said his name was, a nice, normal name—and took it, throwing back the contents.

The sour, bitter taste of the beer was strangely sweet as she swallowed, slamming the cup down onto the counter when she was finished.

"I like a girl who can drink," Paul—or was it Phil? she wondered absently—murmured, chuckling. Elena giggled as he wrapped his arms around her waist, tugging her with a quick jerk flush up against him.

"I can _drink_!" she declared loudly, proudly. She threw her hands up in the air as if she had just scored a touchdown, letting them fall onto his shoulders.

"You want another?" he asked, leaning down to speak in her ear. The volume of the music seemed to grow louder; the loud voices around them almost shouts.

"Yeah!" she cried excitedly. She wanted another. And another. She had lost track of how many drinks she had consumed since she, Caroline, and Bonnie had arrived at the house, but she still wanted more. She wanted so many drinks she forgot everything.

Especially that she couldn't find her friends anywhere.

She and Phil—or was it Preston?—chugged the drinks together. Elena won, letting out an excited screech as she polished off the glass and again slammed it onto the counter. He finished his glass and grinned at her, pulling her back to him.

"Want to go somewhere where we can talk?" he asked. He pointed at his ear and then up at the ceiling. "It's loud in here."

She nodded emphatically, snagging another beer from the counter top as he led her from the over-packed room.

As soon as they stepped outside, into the cool night air, Elena let out a deep breath of relief, throwing her arms wide. She staggered forward as two warm arms wrapped around her, holding her close.

Paul—it had to be Paul—she suddenly noticed, was twice her size. She frowned as something soft and wet pressed against her neck, her eyes widening in horror as she realized what it was.

Gross. He was _kissing_ her.

She started to pull away. "I want to go back in—" she told him, the world around her fuzzy and spinning.

His arms tightened around her, locking her in place. "Where's the fun in that?" he breathed, his breath hot and uncomfortable against her ear.

Her heart raced as she looked around for something—anything—to use as a weapon, but there was nothing. And even if there was, he had her in too tight of a bind. And she was too drunk to probably do anything, anyway.

Why did she drink so much? she wondered, feeling tears of panic start to form in her eyes. Why had she gotten so drunk? She didn't want to be drunk. She wanted to be sober. She wanted to sober up right now. "Let me go," she ordered, her voice trembling in fear.

"Don't be like that," he murmured, nuzzling her neck.

The blood in her veins turned to ice. "Let go!" she ordered, louder. She tried to reach up to pull off his arms, but he locked her down, helpless.

"Be quiet," he ordered, his voice taking on a harsh tone. She felt more tears form in her eyes. "This doesn't have to be unenjoyable."

"Oh," came a voice from behind him. "I couldn't agree more."

Elena gasped as she fell to her hands and knees, suddenly free from her prison. She whipped her head around to see what had happened, her vision continuing to spin even when she had stopped.

"Normal enough for you?" she heard someone ask quietly.

Then everything went black.

* * *

Ugh.

Ugh summed up just about everything Elena felt as she rolled over in the unusually soft, unusually feathery cushion she slept in. Her head pounded. Her stomach felt queasy. Everything ached.

And… where was she?

Her eyes flew open, taking in the sunlight streaming in through the open window, the heavy, fluffy down comforter curled up around her, the dark wood décor, and knew she could only be one place.

Damon's room.

She sat up slowly, holding a hand to her head as she surveyed the empty room. Damon, apparently, had left her there to sleep off her hang over. But where was he?

And, as the memory of the night before came crashing back down around her, another thought: What had happened to Paul-Phil-whatever-his-name-was?

She climbed painfully from the bed, tugging her shirt down around her waist from where it had ridden up. She was still in her clothes—at least Damon had the decency not to undress her. She made her way slowly down the stairs, using the hand rail and then the wall to guide herself into the living room.

Damon was sitting on the couch, his back to her.

It was, she realized slowly, the first time she had seen him in weeks.

"It's about time you woke up," he declared, without turning around. "It's almost two."

She wrapped her arms around herself. "How did you know I was at the party?"

He still didn't turn around. "Bonnie called. Said you were letting yourself get manhandled and someone had better come stop you." He tossed a magazine onto the coffee table in front of him, finally turning to her. The dark look in his eyes belied the devilish arch of his eyebrows and upturned lips. "You little minx."

She hesitantly approached the couch, sliding down onto the cushion by the arm. "What did you do to him?"

"Me?" he mocked. "Why nothing, Elena. It's absolutely none of my business who you want to paw you."

She frowned at him. "Damon—"

"I just told him he should respect women a little more," he interrupted, standing abruptly. "Hungry?"

The thought of food made her stomach churn. "No." She looked up at him, embarrassed and ashamed. "I'm sorry you had to—"

"I didn't." He turned away. "Get your shoes on. I'll take you home."

She stood uneasily. Damon was angry. "Damon—"

"Get your _shoes_, Elena," he ordered, a warning tone in his voice. His eyes flashed as he turned on her, glinting at her.

She knew that sound—and that look—all-too well. She followed him to the doorway, where he had placed her shoes, and slid them on.

They drove in silence. The car ride was almost excruciating, Elena's stomach chugging so hard she was sure she would vomit all over the floor of his car at any second. When he finally pulled up to her house she almost fell out of the car in relief, her pounding head and queasy stomach both making her despise alcohol.

Still, she forced herself to pause before shutting the door. "Thank you," she said softly, feeling strangely shy.

He flashed a mocking smile at her. "Of course," he agreed. She shut the door and the car almost instantly zoomed off, leaving her standing on the curb, alone.


	5. Chapter 4

**Chapter Four**

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**Written for the Secret Santa over at the Damon_Elena LJ Comm.

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"…and he'd been wearing it the whole time!" Caroline finished, giggling hysterically.

Elena tried to join in as Tyler, Bonnie, and Jeremy all laughed hysterically, but it felt forced and strangely hollow. She reached for her drink, taking a drink through the straw to cover up her lack of enthusiasm.

The night out had been Caroline's idea after the party the week before, but with her friends paired up and Elena the fifth wheel at the table, she felt unusually out of place and lonely. It wasn't her friend's fault—she knew they were trying hard to make her feel included—but they were also in the beginning stages of their relationships, and that excitement was hard to see through. She understood it completely. She had been there once, too, with Stefan.

Stefan. The name brought a vague pain of sadness with it, but the heartache had all-but dissipated. She was almost sad at how unaffected she felt, but decided she was grateful. It meant she really had moved on. Or, at least, was on her way to moving on. Either way, Stefan was in her past, and she was glad. Glad that she had met him. Glad that she had dated him. Glad that they had been in love.

She sucked down the last of her soda, standing from the table. "I'm going to grab another," she told her friends. "Anyone want anything?"

Of course they did, and she quickly committed all four drinks to memory, repeating them in her head as she headed to the bar. She leaned against the counter as she waited, casting a look back at the two unofficial couples sitting at the table. Despite her slight depression, she found herself smiling as she watched the group burst into laughter, Bonnie reaching out and lightly shoving Jeremy's arm. Her younger brother blushed, a shy, adorable smile curling up his lips.

She turned back to the bar, smiling to herself. Then the familiar pang of loneliness hit her and she sighed, glad she was facing away from her friends.

"Can I buy you a drink?"

She turned to her right, in the direction of the voice, her lips parting in astonishment. Damon Salvatore leaned against the counter right beside her, smiling impishly. "Damon?" she asked, stunned.

"I have it on pretty good authority that you can hold your liquor," he told her, arching his eyebrows suggestively at her. "And that you're a pretty fun drunk."

She could only gape at him. "What are you doing here?" she asked.

He arched an eyebrow at her. "Where else would I go in this town on a Friday night?" he countered. He had her there, and wordlessly she shook her head. "Exactly." He leaned back on his elbows on the bar, looking over his shoulder at the bartender. "Can I get a beer?" he called at the bartender.

"Sure thing, sugar," she called back at him, winking flirtatiously at him.

Damon flashed a charming grin, straightening to look back at Elena, who stared at him incredulously. "What?" he asked, his smile dying. "Did you want one, too?" He leaned back on the counter. "Can you make that—"

"No!" Elena protested immediately. She let out a frustrated sigh. It figured that Damon could get a drink within seconds of walking up to a bar. Being upset about it was just silly.

He studied her for a moment, deliberately looking out at the restaurant. "No date?" he asked.

She frowned. "No."

He turned an instant grin on her. "Excellent. Then you can be mine."

"Damon!"

He snatched her hand, pulling her to the back of the restaurant to the pool tables. "Damon, I have to get back to my friends—" she argued, as he started racking up the balls.

He scoffed in the direction of the table. "Forget about them. They're having a great time. And you," he moved to stand in front of her, his face suddenly uncomfortably serious, "look miserable." He held the cue ball inches from her nose. "Now. Would you like to break, or are you prepared to be insanely turned on by my sexy pool skills?"

She couldn't help the smile that formed. Making up her mind, she reached up and tugged the cue ball away from him. "Just wait," she warned. "You haven't seen my awesome skills yet."

"Why Elena," he mocked, turning away from her to go to the cue sticks. She watched as he selected two, pulling them down from the rack before rejoining her at the table. He held one out to her, his eyes twinkling devilishly. "You don't need to show me your pool skills to turn me on."

She rolled her eyes to cover up her smile, taking the pool cue and the cue ball to the far end of the table to line up her shot.

* * *

"Thanks," Elena said, smiling over at Damon as he pulled up to the curb outside of her house. "I had fun."

He flashed a cocky grin. "Of course you did. Look at the company you were keeping."

She rolled her eyes. "Good night, Damon."

"Good night, Elena."

She climbed out of the car, heading up to her house to go to sleep, still wearing a small smile. And, as she crossed the threshold to her bedroom, she realized with a bit of uneasiness that it was the best she had felt in weeks.


	6. Chapter 5

**Chapter Five**

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**Written for the Secret Santa over at the Damon_Elena LJ Comm.

* * *

Elena focused on the milk bottles in front of her, drew her arm back as hard as she could, and threw the heavy gray ball forward with as much force as she could muster.

The top bottle fell with a clatter, the other two remaining motionless.

Elena laughed and nodded at the freshman behind the counter, shaking her head when he urged her to try again.

"That," a low voice taunted in her ear, "was pathetic."

She tried not to grin as she turned around to face Damon, who had suddenly materialized behind her. Somehow, she wasn't the least bit surprised to see him at the school carnival, but she was pleased to see him. "Think you could do better?" she returned.

He scoffed at her, rolling his eyes at the milk bottle throw. "Easily," he assured her.

She licked her lips to bite back her grin and placed a five dollar bill on the counter. "I'll take that," she declared.

As the boy behind the counter dropped three balls into the small circle on the counter, Damon faced her, just inches away. "Loser buys first round of corn dogs," he warned.

"Deal," she agreed.

Of course, making a deal with a vampire in a contest for a feat of skill and strength was probably not her smartest move, and as Elena handed over ten dollars to the girl behind the corn dog stand, Damon gloated proudly.

"You cheated," Elena complained, laughing. "You used… unnatural skills."

Damon gaped at her in mock-astonishment. "They're not unnatural. They're mine. And I used them." He held up the stuffed flower she had picked out when he had won and tickled her nose with it. "To win you this. Whatever it is."

"It's a flower, Damon!" she protested, taking it back from him as they walked away from the corn dog stand.

"It's not a flower. It's… hideous. It's a freak of nature. It's the laughing stock of the agricultural world. Its mother probably tried to burn it when it was a child and it ran away to join the circus, and now it's going home with you." He lightly bumped her side with hers. "Better be careful, Elena. That might be a psychopathic flower you've got there."

"Wow, Damon," she drawled, turning to him. "I didn't know you were so imaginative."

He shrugged. "It's one of my many talents." Then he took a big bite of his corn dog.

She laughed and rolled her eyes, grinning as they continued down the booths.

As she purchased some new bracelets and Damon fidgeted impatiently, urging her to hurry up so they could ride on some rides, she couldn't help being surprised that they were there together… And that she was having fun.

A lot of fun.

As they rode on the Octopus, Elena threw her hands up and screamed and Damon laughed, his arm around the back of the seat behind her. It felt strangely natural to be with Damon like this, and that surprised her almost as much as how much fun she was having.

"Take your picture?" a girl in a cheerleading outfit asked, flanked on either side by two more cheerleaders. "It's only five dollars!" She held up a Polaroid camera.

Elena turned to Damon, who was already shaking his head. "Come on, Damon!" Elena laughed, tugging on his arm. "We're supporting my school! Where's your school spirit?"

"It's not my school," Damon declared grumpily, even as he handed over a five dollar bill.

She leaned into Damon, who dutifully wrapped an arm around her shoulders. The girl counted down from five, paused, then looked out from behind the camera and frowned at Damon. "Smile!" she ordered.

"Whatever you say, Caroline 2.0," Damon muttered.

Elena burst out laughing just as the girl took the picture.

* * *

Elena smiled to herself as she stuck the Polaroid picture into the frame of her mirror. She couldn't remember the last time she had looked so happy in a photo—mouth wide with laughter, eyes bright and shining, cheeks glowing—and Damon even looked happy, his eyes glinting mischievously and a slight curl of amusement on his lips. They looked happy together, like they were really enjoying themselves. It had been a long time since she had laughed that hard.

As she flopped back on her bed, she hugged the flower Damon had won her, still smiling. Then, impulsively, she reached out and grabbed her cell phone.

_Thanks for today,_ she wrote. _I had a lot of fun._

Then she selected Damon's name from her contact list and hit send.

A few minutes later her phone chimed, indicating a new text message. Her heart skipped a few beats as she snatched her cell phone from her bedside table to read the new text.

_So did I._

It was so unlike the response she was expecting that she hesitated with her phone in her hand. Then she slowly typed back, _We should do it again sometime._

She fell asleep waiting for his response.


	7. Chapter 6

**Chapter Six**

**

* * *

**Written for the Secret Santa over at the Damon_Elena LJ Comm.

* * *

Elena looked up in surprise at the knock on her front door. She pressed the pause button on her movie, glancing at the clock. 7:20. It was 7:20 P.M. on a Saturday night. Who on earth was at her door?

She rose hesitantly, approaching the door. "Who is it?" she called.

"Bella Lagosi," was the response.

Damon.

Her heart jumped into her throat as she hurried to the door, opening it to reveal Damon on her front porch. He looked devastatingly handsome in his jeans, black t-shirt, and black leather jacket, staring at her with his blue eyes shining against his pale skin and black hair.

"Damon," she breathed. "What are you doing here?"

He peered past her, into the house. "Alone on a Saturday night, Elena? This is just pathetic." He stepped past her and into the house, inviting himself in.

She shut the door behind him, still stunned. "What are you…?" she asked slowly.

"Isn't it obvious?" he asked, sliding out of his jacket. He tossed it onto the couch and turned to her. "I'm here to keep you company." He walked into the living room. "What're we watching? Ooo—popcorn."

And then, to her astonishment, Damon sat down on the couch right beside where she had been sitting, snatched her bowl of popcorn from the table, and propped his feet up on the coffee table in front of him. The picture of casual.

She slowly joined him, resuming her previous position. Damon was so close to her that their sides pressed together, and she felt strangely aware of him as they sat side-by-side, watching the romantic comedy she had selected.

When the movie was over Damon stretched and sat up, wincing. "That was horrible," he declared, as if he had just tasted something bad. "Really, Elena. What was that crap?"

"It was romantic!" Elena protested, kicking him lightly.

"That wasn't romantic. That was…" He shook his head. "That was just awful. Next time I'll pick the movie." He looked into the bag of rental movies, cringed, and picked up the remote. He began flipping through the on-demand movies, lighting up at a particularly gruesome action movie.

"Damon, no!" Elena protested, when he started to buy it. "No way."

"You made me sit through that garbage," he returned, holding the remote away from her as she reached for it. "Turn-about is fair play, Elena."

"I didn't make you do anything!" she argued, reaching for the remote as he held it above his head. "You invited yourself over and made yourself comfortable. Damon, no! I'm not watching that!"

"You invited me over," Damon corrected, switching the remote to his other hand when her fingers brushed it. She pushed off of his chest for more leverage, trying to grab a hold of it. "You just didn't use so many words. And we're watching it, Elena."

"I'll just go up to my room," she threatened, kneeling between his legs to reach higher.

"I'll carry you back down," he returned. She watched in dismay as the television suddenly flickered with the order confirmation screen, turning to look down at Damon from only inches away. He smiled prettily. "I win."

Suddenly all-too-aware of their position, she pushed off of him, sitting beside him on the couch. Her cheeks felt flushed, and her heart wouldn't stop racing.

Damon suddenly leaned over her, his face just inches from hers. Elena's breath caught in her throat as she stared into his blue eyes, frozen. He grinned devilishly. "Did you just realize how un_believably_ sexy I am?" he teased.

She scowled and pushed him away. "In your dreams," she growled at him.

"Every night, Elena," he assured her, leaving an arm around the back of the couch. "Every night."

* * *

"So? What are you wearing?"

She rolled her eyes as she pulled her hair back into a ponytail. "Haha, Damon, very funny," Elena returned dryly. She stretched out her shoulders, her body sore after the long night they'd had. Damon had picked her up at seven, even though he had said he would be there at 6:30, then whisked her off to a movie and dinner. She paused, straightening as she heard the car door slam and his footsteps on the gravel. "Home now?"

"Yup. Safe and sound. And _alone_. You're the worst date ever."

She pursed her lips to keep the smile out of her voice before she spoke. "You're the one who couldn't even spring for a decent meal."

"We went to the Grill!" he protested.

"So fancy," she mock-scoffed, unable to stop her grin.

"Ungrateful _and_ a prude. You really are the worst date ever."

She heard the sound of his shoes hit the floor as he tossed them onto the floor, then the unmistakable sound of him dropping onto his bed. "Taking a girl out and expecting some sort of 'payment' in return makes _you_ the worst date ever," she returned primly, switching off her light and crawling into her bed.

"Makes me a guy," she heard him say gruffly.

"Chauvinist," she shot back.

"Tease," he muttered. She heard shifting on his side of the phone. "Okay. Tomorrow night. I'll pick you up at six."

"Six?" she repeated, her heart picking up speed. "Where are we going?"

"Now don't be impatient and spoil the surprise, Elena. Wear something nice. But don't wear something nice under it and be all temptatious."

She blushed. "As if you'd get to see it."

"Minx."


	8. Chapter 7

**Chapter Seven**

**

* * *

**Written for the Secret Santa over at the Damon_Elena LJ Comm.

* * *

At 6:34 Elena opened up the front door, half-annoyed, half-ready to call the whole thing off. She had done as Damon had requested, dressing up in a long midnight blue spaghetti-strap dress with an empire waist and high heels, even paring her purse down to the barest of essentials so she could carry the tiny thing in her hand. She had spent almost an hour curling her hair and twisting it up, sticking so many bobby pins into her head that she was sure it weighed at least a pound heavier. Then she'd spent over forty-five minutes doing her makeup, adding extra darkness for a dramatic effect.

And he was over half an hour late.

She guessed she shouldn't really be surprised. In the three weeks that Damon had been taking her out, he had never been on time once. But she had hoped, had really prayed, that this one time he would have made an exception. It felt special, somehow. She had gotten all dressed up. And yet he still couldn't have the consideration to be on time.

All of her anger and desire to slam the door in his face faded as soon as she laid eyes on him, stunned.

Damon Salvatore, of all people, was wearing a tuxedo.

It looked impossibly perfect on him, tailored and cut to every inch of his body. It emphased his broad shoulders and slender, athletic build. It draped around him and shimmered like silk. His black patent leather shoes shined as if he had spent hours polishing them. His black hair fell in boyish curls on his pale forehead, framing his dancing, burning blue eyes. His chiseled, sculpted lips were curled up in a sexy, debonair smirk as he held out a hand to her.

"You are a vision," he told her, his voice melodic and smooth. "Are you ready to go?"

She was speechless as she placed her hand in his, but somehow recovered enough to take a step out onto the front porch. "Where are we going?" she managed to ask, her voice strained. She locked the door behind them, turning to face him.

"Oh," he drawled teasingly, placing his face just inches from hers, "I have _quite_ the night prepared for us, fair Elena."

He held up her hand to lead her down the stairs. Elena stepped forward, stopping short at the sight of the limo parked on the curb, the limo driver standing in a black and white uniform, his hands clasped together in front of him as he stood beside the door, waiting patiently for them to approach.

"A limo?" she gasped. "Damon, where are we _going_?"

He placed a finger to his lips. "Ah ah," he corrected, his eyes twinkling mischievously. "Don't spoil the surprise."

He led her gracefully down the stairs, so fluidly that it astonished her. She felt like she was floating as she followed him to the car, the driver smoothly reaching out and sliding the door open for them.

Damon carefully escorted her in, climbing in behind her. As she marveled at the expensive gold and crystal décor, Damon reached for a bottle of champagne in a bucket of ice with one hand, his other holding two champagne flutes.

"To the most beautiful woman I've ever had the pleasure of laying eyes on," Damon announced, gently placing the glass in her hand as he lifted his cup.

She flushed, still looking around. "Damon, I didn't mean you had to—"

She froze with his finger against her lips, Damon's face just inches from hers. Her heart hammered violently against her ribs. "Shh," he coaxed. "Just drink."

She waited until he slid back in his seat before hesitantly bringing the glass to her lips. One thing was for sure—when Damon Salvatore wanted to do something with class… he certainly knew how to.

* * *

Elena giggled as she stumbled up the stairs to her house, Damon's arm wrapped firmly around her to keep her from falling.

"I have to admit," she started, giggling again as she caught her heel on the edge of the step and had to pause, Damon carefully dislodging her from her trap, "I never thought Damon Salvatore would go willingly to an opera."

He flashed a charming smile. "So you liked it?" he asked.

"It was… magnificent!" she declared, throwing her arms wide. He caught her, carefully leading her to the porch. She fell into the swing, Damon sliding down next to her. She gasped. "And, that crème Brule… I didn't even _know_ it could taste so good!"

He smiled coyly. "French restaurants generally make the best French food," he teased.

She shoved him lightly with her side and stood. "It was delicious!" she announced, giggling at the way her mouth drew out the word. She turned to him, resting her hands on the rail behind her for support. Damon looked impossibly gorgeous sitting there, half-shrouded in darkness, and she felt a shiver go down her spine. "Will you take me again?"

He stood, arching an eyebrow at her. "No way. This was a one-time deal."

"Damon," she complained, her body slumping. She crossed the distance between them and slid her arms under his jacket, wrapping them around his waist as she leaned against his chest. He was shockingly warm… And he smelled spicy and sexy, a delicious, tantalizing smell. She took in a deep breath. "I wanna go again."

She felt his breath against her hair before he straightened. "Then you're with the wrong guy," he warned.

She squeezed tighter, as if that would somehow change his mind. She could feel every muscle in his body, firm and taunt, pressed up against hers, and it was a surprisingly hot night, wasn't it? When had it grown so warm out? "Come on," she begged, resting her chin against his chest as she looked up at him. "It was fun, wasn't it?"

He rolled his eyes and looked down at her. "The only fun part of the night was watching you get drunk on half a bottle of champagne."

"I'm not drunk," she pouted. "I want to eat. Ooo, I want to eat more of that crème Brule!"

"Okay, princess. Midnight just struck and the ball's over." She let out a squeal of protest as she was suddenly tossed over Damon's shoulder. He tugged her purse from her hand, pulling out her house key and unlocking the door before carrying her in.

"Daaamoooonnnn!" she whined, her voice jarring with every step he took up the stairs.

"You're going to wake the whole house," he warned, his voice low.

She was suddenly deposited on her feet beside her bed, Damon standing just inches away. She smiled as he tugged in annoyance at the jacket, tossing it onto her bed. He loosened the bowtie around his neck, then reached for the cufflinks.

"It wasn't so bad," she murmured, feeling almost heartbroken as he almost angrily stripped out of the clothes, "was it?"

He paused, his blue eyes intense as they met hers. "Elena," he began, then stopped. He shook his head. "This is kind of like being in hell. Only I'm pretty sure I've _been_ in hell, and this was worse."

"Then why did you take me?" she demanded, suddenly angry. The night, which had felt so strangely magical and surreal, suddenly felt so… sinister. Dark. Boring. "If it was that bad, why did you suffer through it?"

"To prove a point," he returned, his voice clipped.

"What point?" she snapped. She headed to her mirror, yanking the bobby pins out of her hair. It was almost comical how the curls fell with just a few plucks, after the amount of time she had spent putting it all together. A bitter irony of the night. "That you're a jerk?"

He seized her arm, turning her roughly to face him. "Stop doing that," he ordered quietly, his blue eyes burning into hers. "You wanted a nice night out, without any expectations for the end of it, and you got it. And if you don't stop that _right now_," he gave her a little shake, "I'm going to go back on all of my good intentions. Am I being clear enough?"

She stared at him, stunned. "Doing wha—" she started.

"You know _exactly_ what, so don't play stupid," he warned coldly. He looked angry—furious—as if he could barely contain himself.

Her mind flitted back to the porch… to wrapping herself around him as if she owned his body. To her coy, seductive smile as she pleaded with him to take her out again.

And then she realized.

It had always been unspoken… something understood between everyone that no one said… Damon loved Elena. Damon wanted Elena. Damon would do anything for Elena, even stop himself from having her.

But Damon wasn't fighting himself anymore.

Damon was fighting _her_.

She took a step back, her heart pounding in her chest as they stared at each other. When, she wondered, had she started throwing herself at Damon? Was it because she was drunk, like he said? Were her emotions just on overdrive because she had consumed too much champagne?

Or did she really think of Damon's body as hers because she thought of _Damon_ as hers?

As her thoughts raced back over the last few weeks—no, the last few months—she knew. It hadn't been an immediate thing. Maybe she had drunken one too many glasses of champagne, but it was more than that. She hid in his shoulder during scary parts at the movies. She expected his hand on her back when they walked through a doorway. She thought nothing of his arm wrapped around her when they went out.

It all seemed normal because Damon _was_ hers.

She slowly raised her eyes to his, forcing herself to meet his intense blue eyes. She could see the almost haunted look in them, the pain under the carefully disguised exterior. She crossed the distance between them, reaching out to interlace their hands.

He cocked his head, his eyes blazing instantly, his mouth opening warningly.

"Maybe when you don't expect something," she began softly, "is when you deserve to get it." She watched his expression fall, an almost crushed look taking over his face.

She reached up.

Damon stepped away, his eyes closed. "If you really mean it," he said softly, "once the champagne is out of your system…" He smiled at her, the saddest smile she had ever seen. "You know where to find me."

And then she was alone in her room.


	9. Chapter 8

**Chapter Eight**

**

* * *

**Written for the Secret Santa over at the Damon_Elena LJ Comm.

* * *

Elena's heart pounded nervously as she approached the Salvatore boarding house.

Damon, with his vampire hearing, probably already knew she was there, but she still knocked on the front door, her breath in her throat as she waited. The seconds seemed to tick by at an agonizingly slow pace as she stood there, her carefully rehearsed words running through her mind.

_"I'm sorry. I was drunk. Thank you for being a good friend."_

The door opened.

Damon leaned against the edge of the open door, his arm above his head as he eyed her with a smirk. "Hey there, drunky," he greeted impishly. "How's the head?"

It was so far from the reaction that she had been expecting—she'd been prepared for a sullen, hesitant, unsure Damon—that she was startled speechless.

_"I'm sorry. I was drunk. Thank you for being a good friend."_

"You know, we're going to have to get you some ratty clothes, a hat, and a dog if this keeps up," he warned. "Stick you on the corner by the Grill."

_"I'm sorry. I was drunk. Thank you for being a good friend."_

Damon's cavalier smile faded slightly. He straightened. "Elena?" he asked. "What's wrong?"

_"I'm sorry. I was drunk. Thank you for being a good friend."_

He eyed her suspiciously. "You're not trying to get me to take you back to that French place, are you? Because the answer is no. I don't care how good the crème Brule was. Do you know how long it took us to get there? Of course you don't—_you_ were drunk the entire time. It was two hours, Elena. Two. Hours. Listening to you sing. Off-key, mind you. Both ways." He winced. "My ears will never forgive you."

_"I'm sorry. I was drunk. Thank you for being a good friend."_

His smile died completely, a serious look on his face. "Elena," he said quietly. "What's wrong?"

"I'm sorry," she began, her voice shaking. "I was drunk. Thank you—"

He turned away abruptly. "I might be a pig, but I'm not _desperate,_ Elena," he tossed back. "I don't need to take advantage of drunk girls." He winked devilishly at her. "I prefer them sober. Less chance of them throwing things at me in the morning." He pushed the door open wider, invitingly. "Want to watch a movie? I think that crappy romance you like is still here—"

He broke off.

Elena trembled as she watched his eyes trail down to her hand, locked firmly around his wrist, and then slowly back up to her. His blue eyes were carefully guarded, shielding the emotions she could see swirling beneath the surface. Pain. Anguish. Hurt.

Love.

"But I'm not now," she finished softly.

~End~


End file.
